


Acorn

by TheLittleMuse



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Minor BOFA spoilers, Thorin POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:30:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleMuse/pseuds/TheLittleMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin is slowly succumbing to the dragon-sickness, but a hobbit with an acorn manages to break through his madness for just a few moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acorn

**Author's Note:**

> I'm relying entirely on memory for this, so the dialogue probably isn't exactly right. Please enjoy anyway:)

Acorn

 

 

Thorin wandered the corridors of Erebor, dark thoughts curling around his mind. They still hadn’t found the Arkenstone. Suspicions began to creep in. He knew these dwarves were loyal; they had proved themselves again and again, but what if? The Arkenstone was the jewel of all jewels, beautiful beyond measure. Beyond sorrow or grief. Any creature might turn from his loyalties in order to possess The King’s Jewel.

Except his hobbit.

Bilbo Baggins, strange creature that he was, didn’t love gold like dwarves did. Or any other creature on Middle Earth, elves and men loved gold just as greedily as dwarves, even though they pretended to be above such things. Loved gold that _wasn’t theirs_. He could trust Bilbo. He could trust _only_ Bilbo. A wave of grief and despair hit him that even his sister-sons were suspect. And Dwalin … Balin. His kin. He could trust his kin, surely. The treasury was large after all; it wasn’t surprising the Arkenstone was not yet found. And yet … he knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t paranoia, he wasn’t his grandfather. Thorin knew the temptation that was the Arkenstone. He remembered its exquisite beauty, the way a thousand lights shone from it. He couldn’t trust a single one of them. Except Bilbo.

Unless … Bilbo had eyes, didn’t he? Surely no flower could compare to the Arkenstone. Perhaps Bilbo had seen it, been blindsided by its splendour and given into temptation. The thought pained Thorin. His little Bilbo.

Thorin spotted Bilbo sitting on a bench, staring at something in his hands like he was captivated by it. No. Anger came roaring in and he marched over, demanding to see what was in Bilbo’s hands. Bilbo refused, said it was nothing and Thorin’s heart seemed all set to thud out of his chest. It couldn’t be Bilbo that betrayed him, it just couldn’t…

Bilbo unfurled his fingers and in the centre of his palm sat an acorn. Something calmed in Thorin’s mind. A storm that he hadn’t realised had been brewing. Of course his hobbit would look at something so simple as an acorn with such awe. Thorin remembered Bilbo telling him that hobbits thought of gardening with same love that dwarves thought of smithing and crafting. Thorin couldn’t understand it, but it was the truth.

“I picked it up at Beorn’s,” said Bilbo, as if that explained everything.

“You’ve kept it, all this time,” kept it secret, kept it safe through fire and water. A great well of affection pooled within him. That the hobbit would value this small acorn as if it were gold touched him, though he didn’t know why. “It is a poor prize,” and Bilbo deserved the best. His whole fourteenth share of the gold, crates of it. Beads for his hair, rings for his fingers, so the world would know how highly Bilbo Baggins was valued. Thorin could imagine it; he was drenching Bilbo in gold in his mind. Bilbo would need a set of armour, of course, hobbit sized. The very best dwarrow craftsmanship could provide, though perhaps it would be too heavy. If he could find the mithril shirt that was somewhere in Erebor – only the best to protect Bilbo. Though Bilbo would have trouble getting all his fourteenth share back to his hobbit-hole and there would be greedy, thieving men on the road. Even if he sent guards, who was to say they would not betray him and rob his hobbit? Perhaps he could persuade Bilbo to stay in Erebor…

“I was going to plant it in my garden. In Bag End,” Bilbo’s voice brought him hurtling back to reality, “and so when I see it, I’ll remember. Remember everything that happened. The good, the bad, and how lucky I am that I made it home.”

Something stopped inside Thorin. It was all so very _Bilbo_ and he thought he understood the meaning of the acorn. The attraction of plants, of growing. The memory of an oak tree.

For a moment, Thorin could see why an acorn could be worth more than a chest of gold.

Thorin was smiling. He wasn’t quite sure when he had started smiling. His eyes were wet as well. Something hovered on the edge of his perception. Something cool … soothing. But Bilbo was standing right in front of him and that felt like as great a treasure as any in Erebor.

Except for the Arkenstone, of course. Strange, he had forgotten about it for a moment. It seemed impossible.

Then Dwalin arrived and announced that the men had swarmed to the ruins of Dale. Of course, the men (survivors) would want his gold (that he had promised them). The promise had been made under duress as they had needed blankets and food. The men were like rats, jumping from one ship to another. They would want his gold, they were after his gold.

He would not let them have a single piece of it.


End file.
